


Slippery When Wet

by magneticdice



Series: A.U.gust 2015 [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Blowjobs, Challenge: A.U.gust, Hitchhiker AU, M/M, Slightly Dubcon Situation (but it's avoided), soldier!ian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 04:23:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4691963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magneticdice/pseuds/magneticdice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey sees a guy in an army uniform standing by the side of the road, bag slung over his shoulder and thumb in the air. He’s been driving for hours and he’s beyond tired, so he figures that some casual conversation might help him pass the time… but Ian has a different plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slippery When Wet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1toomany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1toomany/gifts).



> For my bestie, Tam-Tam. Happy Belated Birthday!! I didn’t want to rush and give you a half-assed fic, so this is a liiiiiittle late... Hope you still like it!

Mickey had been driving all night, but it wasn’t even dark out anymore when he _really_ started feeling tired. The early morning fog was causing everything in sight to blur together. He fought to keep his eyes open, but they just felt so heavy as they stared out at the road and the monotonous landscape on either side of him. In an attempt to stay alert, he rolled down the window a couple of inches and welcomed the cold wind against his face.

He jolted up, realizing he had almost fallen asleep again. He was still a few hours out of Chicago but was coming to terms with the fact that he’d probably have to stop at a rest area soon if he didn’t want to veer off the road. He was looking for a sign to see where the next truck stop was when he noticed someone standing by the side of the road in the distance. As he got closer, he could make out that it was a guy in army fatigues.

Mickey had never picked up a hitchhiker before ‒ he wasn’t exactly the kind of person who would help an old lady cross the street, let alone help a stranger off the side of the road ‒ so he continued driving, right past the soldier. Perhaps it was his exhaustion, or the prospect of having someone else in the car with him to talk to, to keep him awake and alert… Something made Mickey begin to slow down, and he found himself pulling over to the shoulder. In his rearview mirror, he watched as the soldier put his thumb down and start running over to the car on the side of the road.

Mickey rolled down the passenger side window. “Where’re you headed?”

The soldier who bent down and leaned against the door frame wasn’t what Mickey had expected. He was _young_ ‒ maybe a year or two younger than Mickey himself ‒ with bright red hair and freckles splattered over his cheeks and nose.

“Chicago,” the soldier answered with a small smile, looking up at Mickey through his eyelashes. If Mickey didn’t know better, he’d swear that the redhead was flirting with him.

“Chicago, huh?” he muttered, taking note of the name on the guy’s uniform. “Get in.”

The redhead’s smile turned into a grin and he quickly opened the door. He slung his backpack down into the space between his legs as he sat and pulled the door shut. Mickey checked the lane to his left in his mirror, not that there were many other cars out, and actually signaled before getting back onto the road.

“Gallagher?” he asked once he’d set the cruise control again.

“Ian,” the hitchhiker corrected.

“Mickey,” he offered, glancing to the side to look at Ian. The redhead was watching him intently, and it made him feel uncomfortable.

“Thanks for picking me up, Mickey,” Ian told him. Then out of nowhere, he leaned across the center console and reached for Mickey’s jeans.

“‘ _The fuck_ d’you think you’re doing?!” Mickey shouted, batting the redhead’s hands away while simultaneously trying to keep the car from swerving onto the wrong side of the road.

Ian looked at him with his head cocked to the side. “Thanking you for the ride,” he explained, as if he was an idiot for not knowing, then went for Mickey’s zipper again.

Mickey couldn’t stop from swerving this time. He quickly pulled the car out of the opposing lane with his left hand and used his right to grab Ian’s shoulder and push him back into his respective side of the car. “Hey!” he yelled, scowling when the redhead gave him a confused expression.

“Don’t worry, getting road head doesn’t make you gay,” the redhead said placatingly.

“W-what?” Mickey sputtered. “I- no. No! It’s not that. I mean, I-” he swallowed, shaking his head. “I _am_ ,” he choked, feeling his cheeks go red as he said it. “Gay, that is,” he clarified, almost spitting the words out. He didn’t usually say it aloud... “But that’s not what I picked you up for,” he added, feeling like the ultimate pervert. He wondered if this was part of a hitchhiker code or something that he didn’t know about, where blowjobs were used as payment for rides.

“I just need to talk to stay awake. Been driving all night...” He looked over at Ian. “You gonna behave? Or do I need to let you out?” he asked the soldier pointedly and relaxed when the redhead nodded.

Mickey was relieved because he actually _did_ want the company. Only, now that the awkwardness level had been dialed up to the max, conversation wasn’t exactly free-flowing.

“Music always helps me,” Ian supplied. Mickey glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. “When I’m tired,” he clarified, “music helps me stay awake.”

Mickey shrugged. It wasn’t a terrible idea... He reached for one of the knobs on his car’s old stereo and his knuckles grazed the back of Ian’s long fingers. He withdrew his hand immediately at the unexpected contact but the touch sent a chill up Mickey’s forearm.

They sat in silence for the next few minutes, music completely forgotten. Mickey stared at the solid yellow lines that separated his side of the road as he continued driving. He could feel the drowsiness settling in once again.

“Hah!” Ian laughed without explanation.

It was such a sweet sound, but he had no idea what the laughter was caused by. “What’s so funny?” Mickey wondered.

“The sign,” Ian told him.

Mickey had obviously missed whatever sign the soldier was referring to, so he shook his head a little.

“It says ‘Slippery When Wet,’ but that’s so fucking stupid. Like, of course it’s gonna be slippery. Why do they even need a sign to state the obvious?”

Mickey hoped it was a rhetorical question, because he had no answer. The silence stretched out again, filling the car with an air of awkwardness. Mickey felt like an idiot. Wasn’t he the one who just told Ian he needed conversation to help stay awake? He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and forced himself to say something.

“So what’s in Chicago?” he asked.

The redhead looked over at him and smiled. “My family. Two sisters and three brothers,” he said with pride. Mickey could tell he missed them and was eager to get home.

“What, they didn’t wanna pick you up from the base?” he wondered.

The smile quickly faded from Ian’s face and he turned his head to the front, keeping his eyes trained on the road. Mickey hadn’t meant to offend the kid. He’d only wondered aloud why his family, who he seemed to love so much, hadn’t picked him up from the army base. Yet, somehow, here Mickey was, sitting in the car that was quiet once more, feeling guilty again for saying the wrong thing. He just couldn’t win.

Mickey yawned loudly, the drowsiness finally getting to him again.

“Where are you driving home from?” the soldier asked him after what seemed like forever.

“Doing my dad a favor,” he answered vaguely. The answer was built in, an automatic response from years and years of being taught to keep his stories simple and not offer up extra details unless pressed for them.

“A favor?” Ian repeated, looking at Mickey with curiosity.

“That’s what I said,” Mickey told him.

“That’s all you’re gonna give me?” Ian asked with a teasing grin.

“What, you want my biography?” Mickey shot back defensively. Who was this kid, thinking he could fish for information when he was so private about his own life? “Because you’re so ready to give me yours?” he accused.

That shut Ian up, and Mickey’s concentration went back to his driving. The fog was even heavier than before, so he made it a point to slow his cruise control down and actually pay attention to the road. Still, he couldn’t help but look at Ian from the corner of his eye every once in a while. The soldier was definitely attractive. He looked like he had so much potential. Mickey wondered why he would have enlisted in the first place...

He stole a few more glances at Ian then blushed when Ian caught him looking. He could feel his whole face turn red.

“It wasn’t the right place for me,” the redhead told him unexpectedly.

“What wasn’t?” Mickey wondered.

“The army. Thought I wanted it. Turns out I didn’t,” he admitted.

“And they just let you change your mind?”

Ian pressed his lips into a thin line, quiet once more. It suddenly dawned on Mickey that they probably _didn’t_ let him change his mind, but he didn’t push it any further. After all, who was he to judge? It wasn’t like he lived a legal, by-the-books, “clean” life either. Instead, he offered up a detail about himself in return.

“One of my brothers got taken in for something he didn’t do. My dad needed me to pay some guys off to secure Iggy’s alibi,” he told Ian, eyeing him for a reaction.

“‘Secure?’” Ian repeated, making little air-quotes with his hands.

Mickey shrugged unabashedly, causing Ian to laugh softly. It was clear that the soldier had no problem with it, and Mickey couldn’t help but smile.

After driving past a sign that told him there were only another forty miles left until Chicago, Mickey leaned forward and turned on the radio. He went through the stations to find one that didn’t make him want to cover his ears. It felt like everything was either rap or pop, but he finally found a rock station.

He was singing along in his head to a catchy Nickelback song when he heard Ian humming beside him. Mickey never got why people hated on the band. Okay, maybe all of their songs _did_ sound similar, but by his logic, that meant that if one sounded good, they all sounded good. What was the harm in that?

Ian was singing, “ _This is how you remind me of what I really am…_ ”

Another smile grew on Mickey’s face at the thought of the redhead liking the song too. (And his voice wasn’t half bad.)

The soldier caught Mickey watching him and grinned like a goofball. “ _These five words in my head, scream ‘are we having fun yet?’_ ” He turned the volume up before belting out the next line.“ _Yeah, yeah, yeah, no no._ ”

Ian leaned over towards Mickey and lightly nudged him with his elbow, obviously urging him to sing along. Mickey shook his head, but begrudgingly joined in by the second chorus.

“My brother Lip always makes fun of me for liking Nickelback,” Ian said once the song had ended. He lowered the volume back to a normal level.

“Your brother’s named Lip?” Mickey asked him, eyebrow raised. “That fucking sucks…”

“It’s short for Phillip.”

“That’s a stupid-ass nickname…” he said, shaking his head.

“Do people call you Mick?” Ian asked him.

“Not if they don’t wanna get punched in the face,” Mickey snapped, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. The only person who called him Mick and got away with it was his sister Mandy.

The fog started to dissipate as they drove on, and more and more cars were on the road. Mickey saw another “Slippery When Wet” sign beside the shoulder and pointed it out to the soldier.

“You’re right,” Mickey agreed, even though Ian’s original comment had been made more than half an hour prior. “It’s a fucking waste of space is what it is,” Mickey continued. “If you can’t figure out that the road will be slippery when it’s wet, you shouldn’t be fucking driving,” he said, looking at his side for affirmation.

The redhead snorted. “It’s like when you get a bag of peanuts and there’s a warning that it contains nuts!”

Mickey was in the middle of laughing when some fucker in an SUV cut him off. He slammed on the breaks and cursed at the asshole, subconsciously sticking an arm out to hold Ian back in a total soccer-mom move. He inadvertently felt Ian’s abs, and if he was slow to withdraw his arm, he blamed it on the fact that he was still recovering from the shock of having to stop short… Yeah, that’s what he was going with.

Mickey decided he’d had his arm against Ian’s body long enough and pulled it back with an embarrassed cough. Thankfully, Ian didn’t seem to notice, since he was too busy holding his middle fingers up to the back of the SUV. Mickey smugly noted that the redhead had a temper as bad as his own.

“Where in Chicago are you from?” he asked, strangely curious about the soldier.

Ian looked at him suspiciously, but Mickey scoffed at him. “I’m gonna have to fucking drop you off anyway, man.” He laughed, then added, “Plus, statistically, the hitchhiker’s the serial killer, not the one picking him up.”

The redhead continued eyeing him but then a small smile cracked through. “South Side, why?”

“No reason,” he muttered, wondering if he had ever run into Ian back home. He reasoned that he would have remembered meeting someone as hot as the guy sitting beside him, so they’d probably never crossed paths before. He knew of a drunk in the neighborhood named Frank Gallagher, but it was a common last name, so doubted it.

Ian leaned forward and rummaged in his backpack for something. After some searching, he eventually drew out a bag of chips. He ripped it open with a loud pop and shoved a few into his mouth at the same time, crunching them loudly.

Mickey groaned.

“What’s wrong?” Ian asked, mouth full.

“You’re gonna get crumbs in my car,” Mickey complained.

“I’ll be careful,” Ian assured him with a grin.

Mickey rolled his eyes because he seriously doubted that.

“You want some?” the redhead offered.

“No,” Mickey huffed in annoyance.

Ian held the bag out for Mickey to take some. “You sure? They’re pretty delicious…” he coaxed, waving the bag back and forth in front of Mickey’s face.

Mickey reached out and took a couple of chips, if only to get the kid to stop bothering him.

He watched as Ian ate another handful and then licked his fingertips. Seeing the redhead’s tongue so eagerly lap at the BBQ flavored powder on his fingers made Mickey’s dick twitch. Distracted, he dropped the chip that he’d been holding had in his hand.

“Crap,” he breathed, lifting his hips up off the seat and trying to find the chip before he crushed it and got crumbs everywhere. How fucked up was it that he’d been so sure the kid would make a mess but he was the one who actually screwed up first?

“I’ll get it,” Ian said, quickly putting the bag down and coming to Mickey’s aid.

“It’s fine,” Mickey said between clenched teeth, still struggling to find the chip himself while keeping the wheel straight. Ian, on the other hand, completely ignored him and proceeded to dig around for it. The top of his hand skimmed the underside of Mickey’s thighs as he reached across the center console and the brunet found himself growing harder. Mickey leaned towards the window in an attempt to distance himself from the redhead but Ian was persistent in his quest for the fucking chip.

Both of them froze when Ian’s hand accidentally brushed up against Mickey’s now pretty solid erection. The soldier stared wide-eyed at Mickey’s face, but the brunet’s only response was to bite at his bottom lip.

“Why didn’t you let me blow you before?” Ian whispered, which was stupid since they were the only ones in the car.

Mickey didn’t know how to explain that he hadn’t felt comfortable with the circumstances around the previously offered blowjob. “It felt so _prostitutiony_ ,” he told Ian, then rolled his eyes when the redhead grinned. “Yes, I’m aware that that’s not a real fucking word,” he gritted.

He kept his eyes on the road but watched Ian’s face for a reaction. The soldier appeared to be processing Mickey’s answer, which was making Mickey extremely nervous, especially since Ian hadn’t moved his hand away from Mickey’s crotch yet.

“Okay,” Ian finally said with a slight nod of his head. “I get that.” He smiled. “Well, I can promise you that this is of my own accord. No strings attached, and no guilt necessary.”

“What is?” Mickey breathed, chancing a glance at Ian’s green eyes.

The redhead flattened his palm out against the thick bulge in Mickey’s pants, never taking his eyes off Mickey’s face. He used his other hand to first unbutton, then unzip Mickey’s jeans, and eased his erection out. Once free, Mickey’s dick sprung up. He looked down nervously but Ian pushed his head up with one finger underneath his chin.

“Eyes on the road,” he ordered.

Mickey gave him a curt nod, then pretended to focus on driving.

Ian’s hand was warm when he tentatively wrapped his fingers around Mickey’s shaft. Mickey exhaled and let the tension slip from his neck and shoulders, relaxing into the seat. Ian tightened his grip on Mickey and sliding his hand up and down in slow, controlled movements.

It was a good thing both of Mickey’s hands were on the steering wheel, because when Ian suddenly surprised him by sliding his mouth down his dick along with the next downward stroke of his hand, his eyes fluttered closed for a second.

“Oh god,” he breathed, fingers clenching on the wheel from the abruptness of it. He heard a huffed laugh from his lap, despite the fact that Ian never stopped sucking his dick. “Asshole,” he muttered when he realized the redhead was enjoying fucking him.

Ian pulled off and twirled his tongue around the head of Mickey’s penis, the sensitive bundle of nerves making Mickey shiver. The redhead flattened his tongue and spread his soft lips around the tip, then sucked down again until his was almost at the base of Mickey’s dick.

Mickey’s jaw dropped open even as Ian continued deep-throating him. He couldn’t believe he’d almost passed it up. He moved one of his hands to the back of Ian’s head and let his fingers rest on the short, spiky hair of his military buzz-cut.

Ian pulled off again and jerked him for a few strokes. “It’s definitely wet _and_ slippery now,” he joked before swallowing Mickey down again, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking him hard.

“I’m close,” Mickey hissed, although the “warning” was a joke because he was more than close. He was coming within seconds, balls tightening and cum spurting down Ian’s hot, tight throat. The redhead swallowed it all and licked his lips with a lewd grin when he was back on his side of the car.

Mickey tucked himself back into his boxers and zipped his pants up. He felt like he should say something ‒ probably thank Ian ‒ but the redhead beat him to it.

“Thanks for picking me up, _Mick_ ,” Ian said, repeating his line from earlier, only shortening Mickey’s name.

Mickey glared at the soldier to let him know that he hadn’t missed the use of his nickname, but didn’t follow through on his prior face-punching threat.

They were quiet for the rest of the drive. Ian went back to eating his chips and Mickey silently sang along to the songs on radio in his head. They were in Canaryville less than twenty minutes later. He drove to the end of the block where Ian had asked him to drop him off.

Ian got out of the car, slung his backpack over his shoulder and turned to go after a quick goodbye.

“Ay, Gallagher!” Mickey called out of the rolled-down window.

Ian looked back at the car over his shoulder.

“I’m over on South Trumbull,” Mickey told him. “You should stop by sometime,” he said, leaving the invitation open-ended. He definitely wouldn’t mind a chance to reciprocate...

“Will do, Mick,” Ian said, using the nickname again with a mischievous grin. He adjusted the strap of his backpack, wiggled his eyebrows exaggeratedly, then turned around. Mickey watched his back as the soldier walked home.


End file.
